


A Little of Your Company

by patronusbro



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Eggsy, Pining Harry Hart, Slow Burn, dogs make an appearance, harry hart with children yas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patronusbro/pseuds/patronusbro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Two days ago, I killed or at least shot down several individuals, to make it out of a building alive. It wasn’t the first time and it is not going to be the last. I fight a lot. In the aftermath, my colleague got hit and I had to carry him outside, while I was aware that he was desperately trying not to scream from the pain. I can consider myself lucky that those were the only guards in the house and that I managed to get to a car that picked me up and brought me to a safe place.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>During the car ride, a nurse gave my colleague a pain-reducing injection, while I was pressing my fingers onto my his bleeding wound, because the tie that I had put onto it had been completely soaked already. I live alone, have been working for a secret organisation for several decades, and enjoy befitted suits, fine weaponry and in all likelihood too many drinks.</i></p><p> </p><p>“I’m Harry”, the child stared at him, “I live about half-an-hour away from here.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little of Your Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluepatootieme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepatootieme/gifts).



> This is the Summer 2016 Hartwin Secret Santa gift to **bluepatootieme**!
> 
> It follows their request: _"Harry Hart likes taking a stroll every night. During one of his walks, he encounters a little girl on the verge of tears and a whimpering pug. Worried for their safety, he befriends them both and stays with her to find her parents. Half an hour later, a frantic figure comes screaming "Daisy, JB!!!" all over the park. Daisy runs off to meet her 'Eggy'. It's quite possibly the only person to make him stumble. Dark-blonde hair, bluish-green eyes, a jawline that is screaming to be peppered with soft kisses. In short, Harry Hart is quite 'infatuated' with Daisy's brother and goes out of his way to keep on seeing them. What he once thought was just lust grows into something more."_
> 
> Due to bad circumstances, I have not been able to finish the fic yet, so here you go with the first chapter of this wip. The next ones are going to follow very soon!

The air was crisp and spoke of soon autumn winds. A lonely bird was chirping hastily and stopped as soon as he walked past the tree that it was sitting in. It had started to dawn and the park was deserted – frankly, it wasn’t the most comfortable weather; damp with no sunshine. 

Harry Hart buried his chin in the collar of his black coat and continued to walk down the little path that parted the park in the middle. Well, it was more of an avenue for pedestrians with a generous amount of well-kept grass around the defining trees. Since it was positioned between the Kingsman headquarters and his house Harry trailed through it frequently. He enjoyed going home from work by feet, even though it took quite a while – nothing calmed him as much as long walks. And especially today he was in desperate need of resting his mind: Bright flashes were wincing through his head, red and unnerving. 

_Tristan’s neckline in front of his eyes. The cold realisation that they were being followed. Regardless of the fact that they had learned each detail of the building’s security system by heart and had been impeccably careful so far. The echoing steps of heavy boots on the hallway. Clicking guns. Harry’s vision turning lucent – the training kicking in, five guards down before any of them could fire a shot. One of them left, a loud blast, Tristan’s shocked impression before he fell. A last bullet in the last guard’s head._

_A fierce voice in his ear._ Are both of you okay? – Merlin, one agent injured, situation under control, send pick-up, I repeat, send pick-up. _Harry’s heartbeat steadying as he bound his tie around the gaping wound in his colleague’s side. Safely carrying him out of the rear exit, where one car, disguised as a cab, arrived. A driver, then Percival in the front seat, giving him a grim nod; a nurse. Tristan laying half-consciously over the back seats, his blood trickling all over their laps. Red on Harry’s long fingers, an ache in his back (Tristan was grown man, to heavy to carry through some corridors)._  


_The drive to the headquarters went by in single images; streets, signs, strangers. Tristan’s strained face. Percival calling the doctors in the quarters; quickly describing the agent’s injuries. Merlin patting Harry’s shoulder when they entered medical –_ go to the bedrooms, sleep.  


It was not that Harry had never experienced tense, bloody missions before, in fact he’d had it so much worse so many times. But this degree of escalation had taken him, all of them, completely by surprise – none of them had estimated it to turn out like that. The Kingsmen had been supposed to enter a consulting firm’s head office to find a hard drive full of information on a drug cartel that was intertwined with the company’s finances. It wasn’t a high security building, and they had thought two agents to be enough for the task. A three on a scale to fifteen.  


Tristan and Galahad had broken, entered and gotten the hard drive without any problems, but on their way out they must have made a major mistake and the few positioned guards had found them. Now the six of them were dead (or at least heavily injured) and Tristan would have to heal for the next few weeks, if not months.  


Several quick emergency meetings had left no doubt that it had not been Harry’s fault, but that their information had been inaccurate – the computer server room had extra security conditions. Arthur had thanked him for the quick ending and for remaining calm over Tristan’s injuries. Still, the guilt burned in Harry’s chest. He wasn’t used to messed-up missions, and definitely not so small ones.  


It didn’t matter that they had they had the hard drive now – an operation with a hurt Kingsman could not be considered successful. After all, Harry had been the agent in charge and Tristan only his backing. Yet here he was, taking a stroll on a late September afternoon, while Tristan had been lying in the ward for the last two days. He would heal completely, that wasn’t of question, but his spleen had been punctured, which, by the look on his face, must be extremely irritating regardless of the painkillers.  


Harry had barely rested during the last 48 hours, the adrenaline was still running through his veins and since there was not much he could do besides waiting for new instructions on the approach of this case, he had been spending hours in the training rooms to let off his steam physically. He just couldn’t stop brooding over the situation – now both the firm and the drug cartel were aware that they were being monitored. It was frustrating. The mistakes that they had made must have opened several new missions for the near future.  


But now Harry was on his way home; Merlin had practically chased him out of the headquarters so that he could get a night of good sleep. Finally, Harry had given in – some things couldn’t be changed and over-thinking would lead to even more errors the next time he was going to be out in the field. Being a Kingsman agent also meant to know when to stop; it didn’t do to be a gentleman to everybody but yourself.  


Tonight, he might try out a new recipe to keep his mind occupied and his hands busy. He was also craving for a good wine, but then again the colour might stir his most recent memories. Some whisky would do, probably. Hopefully Harry would feel calm enough by the time he went to bed and hopefully the images wouldn’t turn up in his dreams.  


A gust of wind slapped him in the face and he bend even deeper into his coat. This autumn was starting out unusually cold, and whomever he talked to these days mentioned that a remarkably harsh winter was likely going follow.  


He circled around a small puddle in his way in which he could see the reflection of his tired face; he had almost reached the middle of the park. From here on it would still take him around thirty minutes to his house. Maybe he would still have to go get some groceries afterwards if the content of his fridge wasn’t satisfying enough to create a good meal.  


A loud bark pulled Harry out of his thoughts. Next to one of the beech trees along the way sat a small pug – well, it was probably the average size for his breed. The wrinkles of its dark face made it look upset; it hackled intensely. Harry look around, but the owner was not to be seen anywhere – he was completely alone. He contemplated walking by (after all a stray dog wasn’t exactly his responsibility), but stopped after a few steps. Pure bred pugs weren’t dogs to live on the street; maybe it was lost.  


He knelt down to it and even though there were several metres between them, the dog seemed to understand his intention and shuffled towards Harry.  


“Hello”, he said, without really knowing, why. He wasn’t really someone to talk to animals.  


The pug sniffed at his fingers and Harry let it lick them. It looked clean and well-kept, not like it had been on its own for some time; either the owner was still around or they had parted only hours ago. The dog wore a black, leathery collar with a loop made of metal on it – this was purposely where a lead was meant to be attached. There was no tag or something similar on it.  


He stroked the animal’s head and it made some satisfied noises. Harry couldn’t help the smile that was crawling onto his lips – he’d had a dog once, it hadn’t been much bigger than this one and had been equally attached to people. Even though Mr. Pickle had died decades ago, Harry still had warm memories of him, a dog who had been a companion to him and had often broken the ice between Harry and whomever he was with. Still, pugs weren’t exactly a kind of dog he was fond of – the noises they made, the way they walked and their enormous eyes bewildered Harry.  


The dog made a sound that appeared like a sneeze and Harry became aware of the fact that he was squatting on the wet ground, petting a strange dog. He really needed to sleep, to get rested, to focus again on the things that were important. As Harry got up to walk away, a little bark was directed at him and the dog waddled away – after a few metres it stopped and stared back at him. It made a huff and Harry took a step towards it; a look was directed at him and the dog moved on as Harry started to walk after him. It was clear that it wanted Harry to take after it. Good lord, now he was following a pug he didn’t know through a park.  


Harry wiped some faint raindrops from his forehead and grimaced at the sight of the hem of his trousers turning all wet by the grass that he was now walking through. The pug wandered off to the far right hand of the park – it had probably sensed something to eat there, why was Harry still following him? It must have been his exhaustion – too little sleep, too many pictures on his mind – that made him ridiculously open to breaking through his routine. He felt obliged to at least see what the dog was up to, as it seemed too eager to be followed by Harry.  


It stopped by two large bushes on the rim of the park. Considering the way the dog sat down and looked at Harry, it became obvious that they must have reached whatever destination it had been heading to. Harry looked around, but he didn’t see anything of interest – until he peeked behind the bushes. There, sat a little girl on a tiny bench. She was wearing a yellow rain coat and her hair was in two pigtails – she couldn’t have been older than four. The pug waddled towards the bench and leaned against her knees, and she gave him a small pat – they knew each other.  


For a broken second, Harry wondered whether she might have been walking it on her own, but as he saw that the girl’s face was red and puffy from crying, he realised that she had probably lost her parents. Harry threw a glance at the pug – what an intelligent animal! There was no way he could walk away from the situation now; he’d need to help the child.  


As she heard him step forward, she turned around to him and her eyes widened. Harry tried to put on his friendliest smile – the girl looked terrified already and he didn’t want to scare her even more; strange middle-aged men were exactly the kind of group children were told to never talk to.  


“Good evening”, Harry said kindly, and the girl blinked at him.  


“Is that your dog?”, he asked; less because he was actually questioning that and more because he wanted to start the conversation as pleasantly as possible for the child. She nodded carefully.  


“I had a dog once, too. He was a Yorkshire Terrier though.”  


The girl was quiet for a moment, but Harry could see that she was thinking about an answer, so he gave her some time. You couldn’t earn anybody’s trust by pushing them.  


“JB… is a pug”, she made, finally.  


Her voice was hoarse from crying.  


“I see. JB is an interesting name for a dog!”, Harry said.  


The pug made a short bark; obviously it knew that they were talking about it.  


“That was Eggy’s idea”, the girl murmured.  


Harry frowned a little. Again, such a strange name.  


“So this is… Eggy’s dog?”  


She nodded again and her eyes filled with tears.  


“Hey, it’s all right!”, Harry said – maybe that Eggy guy was also the person who was responsible for this little girl. It would make sense after all, if his dog was here with her. He pointed at the bench and gave her a questioning look, and as she made yet another of her tiny nods, he sat next to her; carefully.  


“How come you are here alone? Did you get lost?”  


He regretted saying so right as he saw how the tears found her way out of her eyes, over her cheeks, dripping from her chin. Harry’s neck muscles stiffened and his brain went quicker – he reflected onto the situation.  


To help her, Harry needed to convince her of that he was a nice and not a scary stranger. But especially for afraid children, the line between those was thin. Also, he had to balance the conversation in a way that would both calm the girl and give him the information he needed. But how could he do so, if the girl started crying when he addressed the most burning questions? She seemed very unstable, emotionally. The sleep deprivation tugged at his nerves.  


“Are you cold?”, he said to change the topic a little.  


The girl hesitated, then she nodded again, sheepishly.  


“Would you like to have my scarf?”  


She looked away and it was clear that she would like that, yes, but that she was too shy to ask for it from a stranger. Harry opened his coat collar and took off his scarf. It was made of a dark blue, Italian fabric of the highest quality – one of the things he liked about being a Kingsman was being able to afford something like that. He handed it to her, in a gesture that allowed her to take it or not. Slowly, she leaned towards him and grabbed it. Harry let her put it around her shoulders on her own – he was sure that touching the girl wouldn’t make opening up to him easier.  


For some seconds they sat in silence, it was getting darker and the air was filled with city noises and the pug’s breathing. Harry decided to start another try, a wider approach.  


“Did you come here alone?”  


The girl shook her head and looked all sad again.  


“Who did you come with?”  


“I… I...”, she got caught up in a dry sob.  


“Was it your parents?”, Harry asked and tried to remain patient.  


She shook her head again and wiped over her cheeks.  


“Eggy.”  


So Harry had been right.  


"Who is Eggy? Your… friend?”  


“No.”  


She gave Harry a sceptical look. As an agent, he had to admire her will to keep back information from a completely unknown.  


“It is okay, you don’t have to tell me. I just want you to be safe, and it’s getting dark and you are alone here, so I am worrying about you.”  


This seemed to calm her a bit.  


“Eggy is my brother”, the girl made quietly.  


“Ah, okay.”  


Judging by her age, her brother couldn’t be very old. He was probably not more than a kid, a teenager maybe, himself. Harry wondered whether there was yet another child wandering around nearby, terrified, because they had lost their little sister and their pug, for both of whom they were responsible. And night was falling and Harry knew how children felt about darkness – children and gentleman spies who had far too much experience with how night-time could bring out the worst in people.  


“Do you know where you are? How far from your home is it here?”, Harry asked to push the conversation forward. They had been talking for about ten minutes already and he hadn’t come much farer in helping the girl.  


It took her a second and some blinks, and she started sobbing again. Apparently, she did not know where she was. Harry raised his hand to her shoulder, but as she winced away, he quickly took it back.  


“Okay, I won’t touch you. Sorry.”  


She looked at him with big eyes and a slight frown. A thought crossed Harry’s mind – she probably hadn’t made good experiences with adult men in her life.  


“Don’t be afraid, I will help you home. Where did you last see Eggy?”, he asked gently.  


“I – I – we were in a sh– shop. Eggy bought some – some ice cream and – and I stayed outside with JB and then I wanted to walk around and–“, her words were interrupted by sobs and hiccups, “And – and then I didn’t know… where… and – then JB came here and...”  


It was like a dam had broken. The girl spoke rushed and yet again it became clear just how afraid she was.  


Harry nodded understandingly and took out a tissue, though as he looked at it in his hands, the gesture seemed hollow and inappropriate considering her state. But he wanted to comfort her, so he held it out anyway and they repeated the little scene which they had played through with the scarf.  


Harry offered the tissue to her, the girl hesitated, and then accepted it; careful not to touch his fingers. She held it against her face with her small hands, no doubt those were very cold, and made an attempt to clean her nose. Her movements withheld the stiffness of her age, not yet trained in the things which life demanded. It didn’t look like the first time that she tried to do the motions herself – but her parents, and Eggy, probably helped her with it most of the time.  


The clumsiness in the details, but the ambition to get through the task herself, both warmed Harry’s heart and stressed how young she was – and how certainly she didn’t want to ask for help from him, didn’t want him to touch her. He was still wondering whether that was a natural reflex not to get to close to strangers or whether she’d had much too serious experiences for her age already.  


Harry had been on the edge of asking her for her name, but now he was sure that she wouldn’t tell him and that it would destroy the tiny bit of trust he had earned from the girl by now. If she had been just a few years older, Harry could have asked her how long she had been walking to here since she had seen her brother the last time, and what the shop had been called, but he wasn’t sure whether she would remember. And whether it would make her even more nervous, talking about it.  


“So… do you and Eggy and JB go for walks frequently?”, he asked.  


She nodded.  


“And have you ever been to the shop with the ice cream before?”  


“Yes.”  


A bit of light at the end of the tunnel.  


“Do you maybe know the name of it?”  


The girl shook her head and Harry’s heart sank again. He would either have to call the police or Merlin if he didn’t find a clue soon.  


“But...”, she spoke carefully, “It is Mrs Miller’s shop.”  


“Ah”, he made.  


The girl looked at him.  


“Don’t you know her?”  


Now it was Harry’s turn to shake his head.  


“I’m afraid not, sorry.”  


The fact that he didn’t recognise the name seemed to amuse the child, as if it was a very basic fact one had to be aware of. That she knew more about something than him must have given her a bit of confidence, which he was glad about.  


“She also has a dog, but he is old and blind and just lays around all day.”  


“Can you remember how long it took you from the shop to here?"  


A frown re-appeared on her face.  


“I don’t know.”  


Her voice quivered again, so Harry tried to keep in mind to stay more careful. He should have asked something about the dog, he should have paid in mind that talking about something she knew well would have calmed her.  


But Harry was tired and cold and he started to be hungry and beneath all that he was still disappointed at himself for not having foreseen that the server room could have a special security seal. Objectively, by logic, is wasn’t his fault that Tristan had gotten shot and that they had to deal with organised crime now – still it felt like it and he was exhausted.  


Aiding a lost, four-year-old home, a child who was sceptical about questions and made it ridiculously difficult for him to help, was the last thing he should be responsible for now. The fact that it actually should be easy for Harry to press the right buttons to get information from somebody, that it was something he was usually pretty good at, but that his investigation skills were needless against a little girl made him feel uneasy, and again, angry with himself. He wanted to go home and have a glass of fine whiskey and nothing more.  


Harry realised that he hadn’t said anything for some minutes, as the girl looked at him with her big eyes. In fact, the pug, which hadn’t moved, gave him the same stare. On the inside, he sighed.  


“Okay, I am trying to help you, right? Do you know your home address? Or the street?”  


While he said the questions out loud, he started wondering why he hadn’t asked them sooner. The girl had started frowning again. She was probably thinking of the order to not tell strangers where you lived. Her next words confirmed his consideration.  


“Mum told me not to say that to any one.”  


Her voice still sounded scared, but she also appeared a bit proud that she’d had found the bravery to say this.  


“That’s all right. I mean, you have to be careful. But don’t you think that JB will look after you and protect you from me?”  


The girl and the pug eyed each other.  


Harry decided to tried another technique. If this one wasn’t going to help, he was going to give up. If she was terrified of strange men, maybe what he needed to do wasn’t to take the fear out of her, but change the latter part. After all, she barely knew a thing about him.  


“Well, I am going to tell you a bit about me. Is that okay?”  


Some hesitation, a nod.  


_Two days ago, I killed or at least shot down several individuals, to make it out of a building alive. It wasn’t the first time and it is not going to be the last. I fight a lot. In the aftermath, my colleague got hit and I had to carry him outside, while I was aware that he was desperately trying not to scream from the pain. I can consider myself lucky that those were the only guards in the house and that I managed to get to a car that picked me up and brought me to a safe place._  


_During the car ride, a nurse gave my colleague a pain-reducing injection, while I was pressing my fingers onto my his bleeding wound, because the tie that I had put onto it had been completely soaked already. I live alone, have been working for a secret organisation for several decades, and enjoy befitted suits, fine weaponry and in all likelihood too many drinks._  


“I’m Harry”, the child stared at him, “I live about half-an-hour away from here, in a house, and you know that I used to have a dog, but at the moment I am alone.”  


He could tell that she was considering asking something, but she stayed silent. Harry was on the literal edge of falling asleep. If things had gone as planned, he would have been home by now, and already preparing something to eat.  


But he clearly couldn’t leave any more.  


“I am a tailor”, he continued.  


The girl looked more relaxed now, and she scratched an imaginary pattern into the grass with her feet. Harry should have started telling her something about him way earlier; instead of pushing her to talk to him about herself. She wouldn’t know that half of it were lies or… modifications. After all, he could still rely on his ability to cover things up.  


“I work in a shop in that”, he pointed, “direction. We mostly do befitted suits and coats and similar things that can make one look very neat and… business-like.”  


She glanced at his clothes.  


“Yes, like these. Do you… have something you really like to wear?”  


“I got a dress for my last birthday.”  


“And why do you like it so much?”, Harry asked gently.  


“It has flowers on it and I like flowers. And… Eggy always calls me princess when I wear it.”  


“So, when you wear this dress makes you good?”  


The girl nodded.  


“You know, when people wear the clothes we make for them, it also makes them feel good. They feel more confident and then they also start looking like it. Even if they might be nervous about something.”  


Harry could feel both his yearning for sleep and the need to bring this task to a successful end pull at him. But as much as he was wanting to rest and even though the edges of his sight started to get blurry – he’d experiences this state before, on missions. He had learned to pull through, to stay awake and concentrated.  


“Do you understand what I am saying?”, he asked.  


“Clothes make you feel different?”, she asked slowly.  


“Mhm”, Harry made, and he was glad that she had realised what he had been trying to say. For a moment, he had been afraid to loose her interest through pointless babbling.  


The girl touched his scarf that was still around her shoulders, and stroke it gently. Harry felt with her – it really was quite soft, which was part of the reason why he liked it.  


“This scarf makes me feel warm? And a bit funny because it is so big.”  


Finally, it seemed, Harry had found the right tone for her. Less facts, more feelings. It was difficult for him to find that balance when he wasn’t at his peak.  


“Well, that’s good. Actually it is how a scarf should make you feel – cozy. But I see, it is made for adults of my size, so it might be a bit huge for you.”  


“Mhm”, she made.  


“How about we stand up and walk around a bit? You can get warmer that way and if we leave the park, it could be possible that you find the direction where you came from? Maybe we can find Mrs Miller’s shop.”  


One of the things that Harry had learned during his time as a Kingsman was that sometimes clues came along on the way and that planning wasn’t everything – sometimes you just had to go in and be spontaneous. Harry doubted that they would find the shop, but maybe walking would make him a bit more wake. Also, he was starting to get uncomfortably cold and he knew a police station nearby. There was a tiny image on his mind – if he could convince her, they could go in there and she could tell an officer her address – the girl would probably trust an official person more than him.  


She studied her hands and then looked at the dog, probably remembering how Harry’d said that it would protect her.  


“Okay”, the girl said quietly and Harry was glad that they were starting to get onto a wavelength.  


She climbed from the bench with a little hop and landed safely in front of it; Harry followed her but stayed careful to not come to close. JB, who was starting to understand that they were leaving, got up and pressed himself against the girl’s legs again.  


“I’d recommend that we try this direction”, Harry said and pointed to the left; where both his flat and the police station were situated. He tried to activate his brain to make up several plans on how to convince the girl to go there, on making her open up to an officer, and an alternative in case none of it would work out.  


But how did you deal with lost children? At first, calm them down – which he’d mastered to some extent. Then find out where they lived – well, she hadn’t been willing to tell him by now and Harry would need to step up his game. Collect other helpful personal information – he had a brother whom she called _Eggy_ , and he had a dog named _JB_ and they had been to a _Mrs Miller’s_ shop. None of that would help him a lot. That the girl wasn’t one to talk to strangers easily, that he had learned too.  


The place in his head that was usually filled with strategy and investigation techniques, plans and dedications, was nothing but a foggy, blank space right now. There were parts of the consulting firm’s building plans in it, and a loose picture of Arthur’s tired face as he’d heard of the outcome of the mission; but nothing useful really. Not for this kind of situation.  


Harry wondered what worse moment this girl and this pug could have chosen to make him bring them home. He was running on his very last energy and nothing but the basics any longer – _call the police, call Merlin_. His glasses were in his coat pocket and he could have taken them on any moment and ask Merlin for help, Merlin, who, as always, would know exactly what to do and would bring this to an end.  


But he felt like he shouldn’t destroy the bit of progress the girl and him had made by phoning another strange man and basically handing her over like something he couldn’t figure out how to use or how to act around. Like a screaming baby that someone had handed him over or… or a woman.  


Harry pressed a finger at his temple.  


They were walking towards the middle of the park, to the path that went through it like a spine. The lamps along its way were lit now, they still seemed to be the only souls around, and night had fallen over London – in a way, Harry thought, he felt like some knight watching over that little girl behind him, a person who barely reached his hip. Like he was protecting her and the pug that was walking between them. Then again that child was scared of him as well and didn’t make much of a difference between Harry and any other dark figure outside right now.  


He glanced down to her to check in what kind of mood she was. The girl immediately caught his eyes and looked back up, there was a concentrated look on her face – a mix between a frown and curiosity. It was clear that she was on guard for whatever was happening around her. Again, Harry realised that she seemed trained in watching out for herself, constantly analysing whether there was anything in danger around her. She was so small, so terrified and yet so serious-minded. Yes, the girl still came across as shaken and confused, but he felt a strong will within her.  


Different though, was the dog. Just as excitedly as it had greeted Harry half-an-hour ago, it was now waddling between the two people by its sides, as if this was a usual walk at night-time. It breathed thickly, as pugs did, but otherwise it seemed perfectly well. It didn’t seem to have any prejudices against Harry in contrast to its owner’s sister – which also might have been part of why the girl had decided to trust Harry a tiny bit.  


“I understand that you don’t want to tell me where you live. It’s important to be cautious about those things. But maybe you have a little tip for me – is there something about Mrs Miller and her shop that could help us get there? Is there a prominent building nearby or what does the street look like?”  


The girl bit on one of her fingers and was visibly thinking. A bit of progress, after all – she had recollected her stability as far as not to cry at his request. She gave him a shy look, a bit embarrassed, like someone who knew they should have said something earlier on. Harry smiled at her.  


“I –“, she paused and as they passed a street lamp, it became clear that her eyes were still puffy, “Mrs Miller is our neighbour.”  


Harry’s heart made a little jump.  


“You mean, the shop is next to your place?”  


The girl shook her head and looked up to him.  


“No, but Mrs Miller lives in our house.”  


He wanted to let go a big sigh. It looked like they’d only need to find the shop before it closed and then its owner could bring the little girl home – it sounded as if they knew each other to some extent. There was an actual chance that he’d be able to bring her home without gettting help by the policemen, Merlin or by threatening her to tell him her home address. Harry was yearning to leave the situation. No matter how much he was interested in how the girl seemed more mature than other four-year olds, what he wanted most of all was not to examine that but lay to rest.  


“That’s really helpful, actually! Would Mrs Miller bring you home?”  


The girl hesitated and nodded finally.  


“Okay, whenever you think you remember something, just anything, you saw on your way, like a sign or a house, then just tell me.”  


She nodded.  


“Or when in case you recognise something.”  


Harry was still feeling a bubbly sensation within his dreading exhaustion (finally, a clue, it looked like guiding her home would actually work out; but afterwards, oh god, bed) as several things happened at once.  


A sound of footsteps appeared behind them. They were light, but sounded like those of a real adult. The shoes scratched over the grit-like path. Harry debated turning around for a split second (whoever it was should see that Harry was perfectly capable of defending himself), before he heard a muffled “Oh, my god” and then –  


“Daisy!? JB!?”, came a scream from behind, and it was filled to the rim with relief and a mark of frantic panic.  


The little girl by his side turned around and so did the dog. With a speed that Harry wouldn’t have thought could break from a child, she started running and the thud of two bodies clashing into each other sounded before Harry had even rotated fully. The dog followed her, breathing heavily, and started barking at the strange figure, excitedly.  


But it was clear that the person was only strange to Harry; they had embraced the girl into a tight hug, while kneeling on the ground, no matter that doing so would make their trousers muddy. The pug danced around the couple in tiny steps and bumped into them every so often.  


Harry could barely see the three because the sat just between to lighted areas, in the shadow between the street lamps. Besides the barking, no one made a sound. But it was obvious, so obvious that this was a happy reunion and Harry’s mind hadn’t started comprehending yet – it had all happened so rapidly – as the arriving person picked the girl, Daisy, from the floor, positioned her onto their hips and stepped towards Harry, into the light.  


Suddenly, his entire weariness vanished. The heavy pulling of his eyelids stopped, a hammering on his mind he hadn’t even realised had been there, disappeared and his brain felt as if somebody had turned the light switch. Energy flooded Harry. He was on a mission again, his body and senses woke; his abilities near to the impossible.  


The person holding the girl wore an old hoodie and a frown that was very similar to the one Harry had looked at often tonight. The eyebrows tipped into a most charming way, neatly they set a limit to their owner’s face; there was a pair of eyes that simmered with curiousness, slightly sceptical, and spoke of an enormously strong will. The lips, still carrying the left-overs of an overly eased smile, looked like something out of a dream. As they raised their chin a bit, a well-defined jawline showed an endearing stubbornness.  


Harry’s head started spinning in a totally different way.  


Apparently, Daisy’s brother was _not_ a ten-years old boy.


End file.
